


Breaking Down Barriers

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Pretty Much the Same [7]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow up to False Start, taking place a few weeks after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Down Barriers

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is mt first time trying to write something like this between girls and, while I didn't think it merited an 'explicit' warning, it does go further than the other stories in the set. HUGE thanks to flynntervention on tumblr for helping me out with this one.
> 
> Again, this takes place a few weeks after False Start, and both stories are a few years before the rest of Pretty much the Same.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Raising Yuri's hand to her lips hid Flynn's smile except for the way it warmed the blue of her eyes. She kissed the back of each of Yuri's fingers; quick, dry kisses that were at once loving and playful. Yuri rolled her eyes at the gesture, though she couldn't keep a smile from tugging up the corners of her mouth. She lay snug in the nest of blankets and pillows that covered her bed. Flynn knelt beside her, bare leg hot where it pressed up against Yuri's hip. By unspoken consent, they'd stripped away their jeans before getting into bed. It would be one less obstacle to pull Yuri out of that warm place of hurried heartbeats and short breaths. Besides—she wriggled her hips—she liked feeling Flynn's bare skin against her own.

Flynn turned Yuri's hand up in order to kiss the pads of her fingers. She ran her tongue delicately over the very top of Yuri's palm. The ticklish sensation danced along Yuri's nerves, spreading tingles to the top of her scalp and the base of her spine. Yuri had to admit that the single upside to her inexplicable nervousness was that Flynn had been giving her a lot more kisses in a lot more places—gentle kisses, teasing kisses, hot kisses, kisses with tongue. There wasn't much of her body left that hadn't felt the warmth of Flynn's mouth, and Yuri was impatient to fill in the blanks.

The problem was that every time they'd come close over the last few weeks, something got in the way: one of them would have to leave, someone would call, the pizza man would knock on the door. Yuri was still pissed about that last one. But, even if nothing interrupted them, Yuri's own body had betrayed her more than once, legs snapping reflexively closed when things grew too heated too quickly. When that happened, Flynn would stop touching her and start asking questions, and without that warmth, that rhythm, the soft buzz of excitement that filled her with every touch of lips and fingertips...without all of that, everything would go cold and uncertain. Yuri was sure that if Flynn would just _keep going_ —just keep kissing her, keep petting her hair, keep stroking her thigh or rubbing her back—if she would just continue, then the nervousness would probably pass. The anxious butterflies would settle.

Try telling Flynn that, though. The moment Yuri showed the slightest hesitation, Flynn went immediately hands-off. Equally as frustrating as Flynn's caution was Yuri's own pathetic sense of relief at the reprieve.

Kisses tickled the inside of Yuri's wrist. She felt the wet pressure of a tongue over her pulse for a brief moment before Flynn moved on, dappling her arm with kisses. Cradling Yuri's hand and elbow, Flynn leaned closer as she worked her way up. As Flynn kissed over the muscles of her upper arm, Yuri buried a hand in Flynn's hair, pulling her closer to kiss the top of her head. Letting go of Yuri's arm, Flynn let her trail of kisses meander over the curve of Yuri's shoulder, mouth hopping over the strap of her tank top and continuing in over the top of her chest. Choppy, blond locks tickled beneath Yuri's chin as she tilted her head back to grant Flynn better access. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt fingers at her waist, slipping beneath her top to touch her skin-to-skin. She was swamped with a sudden rush of warmth.

Flynn grabbed the hem of her tank top and Yuri shifted, trying to prop herself up to help strip it off and out of the way. The next thing she knew, however, the kisses had stopped and Flynn was pulling back to look her in the eye.

“May I?” She tugged gently at Yuri's shirt as if the request needed explanation.

Rolling her eyes, Yuri sat up to help get rid of it, begrudging the small interruption. She wriggled as her hands and Flynn's pulled the shirt up over her head and off. It was tossed aside to join the layer of clothes already carpeting her room. She peeled off her sports bra before Flynn asked about _that_ , too, and felt a pleasant shiver run up her spine at the look in Flynn's eyes. When Flynn's gaze lifted to meet hers, there was a moment when Yuri saw pure need in those baby blues. Then, in the next second, a smile crinkled up the corners of Flynn's eyes, and she reached for the hem of her own t-shirt.

“Fair is fair,” Flynn said softly.

Yuri was captivated by the brief sway of Flynn's body as she undressed, by her creamy skin, by the white satin bra that held her breasts. She stared helplessly as Flynn leaned forward, reaching behind herself for the clasp. The bra came loose. Her breasts sagged, aureoles peeking out like twin sunrises. Yuri was parched.

Flynn had caught her staring. No surprise, there. She didn't wait to be questioned again about how she felt, but curled her fingers around the bra straps, easing them down Flynn's arms even as she leaned in close to press her lips to Flynn's. As they kissed, Flynn pulled her arms free of the straps and let Yuri toss the bra aside. She combed her fingers through Yuri's hair, following its length down to stroke her back. Their breasts brushed together, kneaded between them with every sway that brought their bodies closer. Feeling her nipples begin to stiffen, Yuri moaned softly into the kiss before she could think the better of it.

Their mouths parted with a faint 'smack,' though Flynn's lips tickled against Yuri's as she murmured: “All right?”

In answer, Yuri surged forward, renewing the kiss and flinging her arms around Flynn in a tight embrace. She dragged Flynn down on top of her into the hollow in the blankets. The fabric already felt cool against her bare back.

Yuri hated trying to keep quiet as they kissed, hated having to force down the little noises that caught in her throat as Flynn's touches melted something within her, heated her skin from the inside. She never knew when Flynn would take something the wrong way, though. Better to keep silent and not be babied with well-meaning solicitations that got in the way almost as much as her own nervousness about this new facet of their relationship. Yuri wanted to be just as comfortable with sex as Flynn was, and it _bothered_ her that she was still hesitating, still not measuring up to Flynn. She hated seeing pity when Flynn looked at her.

_Stop asking_ , she thought. _Just kiss me and stop asking!_

Flynn's hands outlined her, cupping her ears and cheeks, running over her shoulders and along her sides, thumbs brushing over her ribs, her stomach. Those touches stopped just shy of her hips, of the elastic barrier of her panties, and retreated as Flynn settled herself on top of Yuri, planting forearms and hands on the mattress to steady herself. She was huddled warm and close, sandwiching Yuri against the bed and letting the kiss grow languid and slow, coaxing. She toyed idly with Yuri's hair where it was caught beneath her hands.

Yuri shivered, wanting to buck her hips up against Flynn, wanting to wrap her legs around Flynn's waist and squeeze her close. She slid her feet across the rucked up blankets, spreading her legs a bit wider.

If Flynn noticed, she didn't let on. The warmth of her tongue withdrew, flicked across Yuri's lips, dimpled her chin before Flynn's mouth followed, all pliant and soft before she nipped ever so lightly at Yuri's skin. Open mouthed kisses wet Yuri's throat as Flynn teased and tasted her way down. She dipped her tongue in the hollow of Yuri's throat, kissed along the base of her neck, leaving fading spots of gem-like coolness where the flares of warmth dissipated. Yuri's fingers were trembling as she stroked reflexively over Flynn's back. She pressed her shoulders into the pillows, baring throat and chest to urge Flynn wordlessly on.

Lips moved lower. Skin prickled to attention. Flynn's breath was a moist exhalation of welcome heat over Yuri's breast. The movement of her mouth tickled Yuri's skin as she asked: “Still okay?”

“ _Yes_...!”

It came out as a hiss, an impatient plea. Flynn took her at her word and kissed the swell of her breast. At the first light graze of teeth over her nipple, Yuri's hands slipped from Flynn's back and gathered up the sheets, twisting them in her grip. She curled her toes into the blanket and swallowed back a moan as Flynn's tongue swirled around her nipple. Fluttering sensations of anxiety and arousal warred in her stomach, neither outweighing the other for long. Suddenly, she found that she couldn't calm her breathing and sure as hell couldn't keep still. The springs of her old mattress creaked beneath her. She felt every tiny movement Flynn made next to her, warmth pressed close along her side, mouth lavishing attention on one of her breasts, a hand warm on the other. Shivers that had nothing to do with temperature ran down Yuri's back and raised goose bumps on her arms. Her anxiety was being melted away, and it seemed like maybe she would _finally_ be able to overcome her trepidations. Although, if she had to hear Flynn ask one more time if she was all right....

“Yuri?” Raising her head, Flynn laid a hand gently over the fist Yuri had clenched around the sheet. “Everything okay?”

Yuri gasped sharply, following it up with all the collected frustrations of her yearning, her bewildering anxieties, and her hatred of being handled with kid gloves. Compressed and focused, the sound she made to express all of that was a loud and vehement: “ _Fuck_!”

Immediately, Flynn sat up, pushing herself away to give Yuri space. It was a show of respect and concern that Yuri probably would have appreciated more if she wasn't desperately trying to get over a hang up she hadn't even realized she'd _had_ before it had suddenly become really fucking inconvenient.

“Fuck.” She sat up, crossing one arm over herself as she ran her free hand agitatedly through her hair. She drew her knees up to her chest. Her hair tickled over the bare skin of her shoulders and breasts. Warmth fled as her back was exposed to the air, and she glared so fiercely when Flynn tried to drape the blanket over her shoulders that there was no choice afterward but to bear the faint chills that ran down her spine.

“Was I going too fast?”

Flynn was honestly concerned, which only made it worse because Yuri knew—she _knew_!—that Flynn was going to take the loss of temper as an excuse rather than what it actually was—frustrated impatience.

“No,” she said tersely. “You weren't. I keep _telling_ you—”

“Yuri, I'm _not_ going to force this!” In less than a month, that had already become an old argument, and Flynn's temper bubbled quickly to the surface. “I understand that you want to take things further, but I also understand why you'd have reservations.”

“You don't understand shit.” She jabbed a finger at Flynn, too angry to care that being practically naked did nothing to make the gesture more intimidating. “Quit being so condescending! It wasn't like this for you, was it?”

“No,” Flynn admitted. “But I—”

“'But you're a different person.' I know. Just—! _Fuck_!” She crossed her arms on her knees and hid her face. Her voice sounded muffled even in her own ears as she spoke. “It was fine. It's just that you keep asking me if I'm okay and if everything's all right and I swear to _God_ , if you don't quit treating me like a baby—”

“I really don't think what we were doing counts as treating you like a baby,” Flynn protested.

Yuri turned her head just enough to be able to fix her with one eye. “Do not think I won't resort to violence.”

She waited until Flynn sighed and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed beneath her breasts, then turned her face back into the darkness of crossed arms and drawn up knees. They were both quiet for a few minutes. For once, it was Flynn who spoke up first.

“So, what now?”

“Well, the mood's shot to hell,” Yuri muttered. “I was thinking a jar of peanut butter and an action flick.”

Flynn heaved a sigh. “That isn't what I meant. What are we going to do next time?”

“You can start by not asking stupid questions.”

She didn't even know why she bothered pointing that out any more. It made no difference. Ever since that night when Yuri had freaked out and thus clued in her girlfriend to her anxiety, Flynn had been nothing but questions when they got to making out. Yuri wondered how she was supposed to get past it with Flynn reminding her every few minutes.

Every word of Flynn's response to Yuri's suggestion was enunciated clearly and carefully to present an idea of the effort required to remain civil. “The reason that I ask those questions is because you hide things from me. If you would _speak up_ when we're at your limit, instead of letting me keep going until you're almost in _tears_ —”

“I wasn't gonna cry!” Yuri uncurled and punched Flynn in the shoulder in retaliation for the insult. Flynn glared, but didn't take it back.

“If you want me to stop asking, then you have to swear to me that you'll say something when you're uncomfortable. You can't just force your way past this, Yuri! I get that it's tough, but at least for _my_ first time, I'd always known I liked girls. You...there wasn't anyone before me, right? That's what you told me.”

Yuri looked away rather than answer. Back when Flynn had first asked if Yuri had ever wanted anyone, apparently stunned that her confession hadn't been rejected, Yuri hadn't been ashamed to admit that she hadn't. Hearing it coming from Flynn now, though, was embarrassing. It sounded like romantic garbage, but that wasn't the truth of it. Developing feelings for Flynn had just...happened. Yuri couldn't explain why any more than she could explain why Flynn was the only one. There was no explanation aside from the fact that Yuri was just weird.

Flynn's hand was warm where it settled on her shoulder. By that time, Yuri's irritation had drained away enough that the urge to shrug her off was no more than a fleeting impulse. The rest of her skin felt extra chilly in comparison, and she was secretly glad when Flynn began stroking up and down her back.

“It's natural to be uneasy about it,” Flynn said softly. “It doesn't mean your feelings aren't genuine. But...just this once, will you listen to me and stop trying to push yourself so hard? I don't...” Her hand faltered in its movements across Yuri's back, grew still over her shoulder blade. “I don't want to force you into anything because I got caught up and didn't notice.”

_Hell_. Focused on getting over her problem as quick as she could, thoughts like that hadn't even crossed Yuri's mind. She let herself fall to the side to rest across Flynn's lap. “You think too much,” she mumbled.

Leaning over her, Flynn grabbed the blanket and dragged it up hand-over-hand. Her breasts rested on Yuri's arm and shoulder, soft and warm. The weight of them, the feel of bare skin against her own, Flynn's scent mixed in with the familiarity of Yuri's old bed, made something twist low in her stomach. She curled in a little tighter around herself, resisting the urge to rest a hand on Flynn's thigh as the blankets were tugged up over her. The mattress rocked and sagged with every movement as Flynn pulled up the opposite corner of the blanket to cover herself with. Once she was settled—although Yuri wasn't quite comfortable and didn't see how Flynn could be, either—she began stroking Yuri's hair back from her temple.

“You didn't swear you'd speak up,” Flynn murmured.

“If it'll make you quit asking, then fine.” Her secret was out, anyway. There wasn't much reason to keep trying to hide it.

“Swear.”

The hand that had been petting Yuri's hair stretched out over her and into her field of vision, pinky extended. It was how they'd always sealed promises as kids. It was a silly, childish gesture, and it was a stricter binding between them than any other promise or swear ever would be. Yuri slipped a hand free of the blankets Flynn had tucked around her and linked her pinky around Flynn's.

* * *

 

A few days later, Yuri found herself curled up in bed with Flynn once more. This time, they were in Flynn's bed—bigger, bouncier, and more plush. Flynn was fresh from the shower, skin still radiating that extra warmth, even through her satin nightshirt and shorts. Yuri had climbed up beside her and made herself comfortable, playing with her DS while Flynn did homework on her laptop. She still smelled candy-sweet from the soap and shampoo, and her short, blond hair was temporarily tamed by the damp.

“How come you can get in the bed with wet hair and I can't?”

“First of all, it's my bed. Second, you can't really compare the amount of water your hair holds with what mine does. It's apples and oranges.”

Apples.... Yuri paused her game and sniffed. Now that Flynn had mentioned it, there was a hint of apple in the lingering scents. She twisted, pressing closer and breathing in deep. Damp hair tickled her nose. Just a little tilt of her chin, and she was able to kiss Flynn's neck.

“Yuri, I'm sort of trying to work.”

“You smell nice.”

Normally, she hated the perfume-cloud smell of the boutiques that sold specialty soaps and body washes, but when it was just the one scent, and because it was on Flynn, it was kind of...enticing. Yuri kissed her again, just below her chin. She probably would have left it at that, but Flynn snapped the laptop shut, practically tossed it onto the nightstand, and gathered Yuri up into her arms.

“You asked for it,” she said. Grinning, she peppered Yuri's face with kisses.

Yuri's first, surprised protest was more a squeak than a shout, but she rallied under the sudden assault of affection, laughing and shoving and swearing. Flynn endured it all and let her kisses linger ever longer as Yuri gradually calmed in her arms. Giggles faded. Grins eased away. Soon enough their lips met and Yuri relaxed against her, playfulness lost to the warmth of Flynn's mouth opening to hers. She settled her weight, one leg tucked between Flynn's, as an arm wrapped around the small of her back to hold her in place. Flynn brushed back her hair and let her hand fall to Yuri's shoulder, fingers rubbing little circles just beneath the sleeve of her tank top.

Just as Yuri's spine was starting to protest the position she'd slumped into, Flynn turned away from the kiss to murmur: “I had an idea the other day.”

“Mm?” She rose up onto her knees, losing most of that comfy, soft warmth as she kissed down Flynn's cheek to the tip of her chin.

“You...you seem to hesitate more when I take the lead.” She tilted her head back to let Yuri kiss down her neck and nuzzle into the 'v' of her collar. “I thought that, maybe if you, ah, got started, it would be easier for me to join in.”

Slowly, Yuri lifted her head to stare at Flynn. “Care to run that by me again?”

“Well, I just thought.... I mean, you've, you know, touched yourself before, right? This isn't all _completely_ new to you...right?”

For a few moments, Yuri let Flynn sweat. She sat back on her heels, feeling Flynn's hands slide off her back and watching hope fade before the worry that a huge mistake had been made. She cocked her head to the side. Keeping a straight face was a struggle against a suggestion that was so odd and absurd that she could barely believe Flynn had proposed it. She formed her response carefully, wanting to be sure she didn't stumble over the words.

“Did you just ask to watch me masturbate?”

“No! I mean, technically, yes, but not like that! I just...!” Flynn's face was bright red and she didn't seem to be able to meet Yuri's eyes. “I'm sorry. I just thought, if you were comfortable doing it for yourself, maybe it would make things easier. It was a dumb idea. I—”

“It's worth a shot.”

“It is?”

Yuri felt her face heating up under Flynn's startled scrutiny. It was embarrassing, sure, but anything was worth a shot at this point. And she _had_ done it before, just not that often, and only recently with elusive imaginings of Flynn playing through her mind. It couldn't hurt to try.

Right?

Before she could think too hard about it, she spun and flopped back against the headboard. She'd landed on her forgotten DS and tossed it to the foot of the bed as she wriggled down beside Flynn, searching for a comfortable slouch as she pressed in close enough to force Flynn to lift up an arm and drape it around her shoulders. She let her head fall to the side, pillowed on Flynn's chest. The butterflies were invading her stomach again, that same mix of anxiety and excitement that filled her whenever things began to get more serious. She took a deep breath and let it out silently between parted lips.

“This was your idea, so if you laugh at me, I'll kick your ass,” she promised.

Flynn squeezed her shoulder and kissed the crown of her head. “We don't have to do this if you're not comfortable with it.”

Yuri didn't need the reminder, but she let the prickle of irritation pass and butted her head gently against Flynn.

“It's fine. Maybe you're on to something.”

She felt the weight of Flynn's cheek resting against the top of her head, the light stroke of fingers on her arm. Warm and safe, she breathed deeply, and a smile crept over her face at the faint scent of apples. Her hand moved dreaming-slow, skimming over her stomach, catching on wrinkles in her rucked up tank top, tickling past her bellybutton, and slipping under the loose hem of her favorite pair of sweatpants.

It would have been impossible to ignore Flynn's presence, so she didn't even try. Her fingertips brushed over pillow-soft cotton and the warmth beneath. The beat of butterfly wings was like a bellows trying to speed her breathing. She closed her eyes, let her lips part and her breath come deep and silent, calming. Nuzzling against Flynn, she felt the arm around her shoulders give a squeeze that seemed to wrap right around her heart. A smile tweaked up the corners of her mouth. She always seemed to cause trouble for Flynn, even in weird ways like this. Time to get over it.

Her underwear tickled against her skin, carrying the lightest touch along the fabric. The little tingles seemed to grow, buzzing inside her until they muddled her thoughts, melding with her measured breaths and the circling strokes of Flynn's fingers on her arm. She drew her legs up, enough to curl her toes against the sheets. The room felt warm. She slipped her hand into her panties.

The touch of her own fingers wasn't anything she hadn't felt before. She'd teased herself to arousal before, edged her way to climax alone in her room or in the shower. Nothing new here, just that Flynn was holding her while she did it. No problem. She wanted to open herself up to Flynn much more intimately than this and, yeah, it was kind of embarrassing, and definitely a bit weird, but—

Her breath caught and Flynn's hand grew still on her arm. Yuri stroked over her clit again, sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth as the pleasurable sensation was telegraphed across her nerve endings. Her fingers were already slippery, feeling better and better with each movement. She moved them a little more forcefully, a little faster, a little deeper, and felt her heart race to urge her on.

Hesitant as a whispered secret, Flynn's other hand came to rest on Yuri's shoulder, light and unobtrusive, riding the small movements Yuri made as she touched herself. She petted Yuri's skin, up and down and again, a little less up, a bit more down. Gradually, her hand traveled lower, offering without words the question: 'Is this all right?' Giving Yuri the chance to shrug her off, push her away, stop and flee. The urge to do so was there, but only barely. The heat pooling between Yuri's legs was rising, ready to wash it away completely.

Yuri realized that she was no longer silent. Hushed gasps and exhalations that shuddered as they won free made her breathing audible. She didn't care to keep herself quiet, couldn't seem to care what Flynn might make of the pleading edge to some of the sounds escaping her. Her stimulation wasn't localized to clit and labia, but was racing along her nerves, collecting under her skin as hotspots, a thermal map of erogenous zones. As her fingers sped their pace, she wondered how much better this would feel with Flynn searching out all those tender, heated places on her body. Flynn was playing at being unobtrusive, though, letting Yuri ease herself out of her comfort zone rather than be drawn out. So far it was working. Her hand had a mind of its own, fingers moving to cultivate that private pleasure more because her addled brain wasn't saying 'stop' than because it ordered 'continue.' The motions were practically reflexive, sensation calling for more and building upon itself as Yuri's heart seemed to expand within her chest with every beat. Dimly, she was aware of Flynn's hand on her elbow, then her forearm, her wrist, but those touches, those rhythmic, reassuring strokes became just one more wave in the warm sea surging around and through her.

Her hips rolled, rising to meet the slide of her fingers. Pressing her nose against Flynn's breast, she breathed deep, then in the next moment let her head fall back with a soft gasp. Little points of pressure against her hair were soft kisses. Flynn was still cradling her in one arm. Her other hand had reached Yuri's, fingers incongruously dry as slowly, gently, they slid in between Yuri's own.

Yuri bit her tongue at the first brush of Flynn's fingertips against her labia. The touch ignited a pleasant shock, made muscles in her legs twitch, made her hips jerk forward. With maddening gentleness, Flynn slicked her fingers inside Yuri, moving with careful, deliberate strokes. Her nails, always a bit longer than Yuri's, elicited shivers as they teased wet, swollen flesh. Before Yuri quite realized what she was doing, she was pulling her own hand back, fingers splaying to part her folds and ease the way for the Flynn's fluid movements as they eased deeper, building pressure and pleasure and eliciting little thrills at the intimacy of another's fingers inside her. She whimpered and barely recognized the sound of her own voice, was too caught up in the sensations between her legs to consider being embarrassed beyond biting her lip to forestall any more little noises. Flynn held her a little tighter, kissed her hair, and swirled a fingertip right around the budding center of the pleasure thrumming through Yuri's body.

Sitting still was no longer a possibility. Yuri's feet dug into the mattress, seeking purchase to help move her hips, to take Flynn's fingers in even deeper, to press more fully against their touch. She was breathing rapidly now, chest rising and falling as she squirmed and dug her shoulders in against Flynn's side. A faint cry escaped her. God, she was close, already so close.... Was it because Flynn was that _good_ at what she was doing or was it simply  because it was _Flynn_ doing this to her, with her?

Leaning away, she craned her neck, trying to get a look at Flynn's face. Flynn's name was a gasp over her lips, but the meaning carried clear. Lips met hers, pliant and warm, everything she wanted and nowhere near enough. She kissed back gratefully, desperately, and wished Flynn would put her other hand to good use, wished she would touch elsewhere—thigh, stomach, breast—anything! Yuri ached for touch even as she bucked against Flynn's fingers where they moved inside her. Needy sounds caught in her throat, drawn forth by fingers and tongue, and everything was warm and soft and slippery and she was sliding helplessly down into it all.

She groaned when Flynn brought her to climax, free hand gripping the sheets so hard that it shook, hips lifted nearly off the mattress. They broke the kiss as she sank back down, and Flynn's lips marked a trail over her nose and forehead as Yuri's chin sagged against her chest. Curling in against her girlfriend, she reached over to latch onto Flynn's nightshirt with her clean hand, fingers trembling. The room felt like a sauna. Her joints seemed to have turned to jelly. Flynn shifted the arm wrapped around her shoulders until she could stroke Yuri's hair, tucking it back behind her ear.

“All right?” she asked quietly.

Having neither the strength nor the inclination at the moment, Yuri opted not to punch her. Instead, she butted her head hard up against the top of Flynn's chest.

“Yeah. Is that what all the fuss is about?”

The breath of Flynn's soft laughter stirred her hair. “You know how you always eat the cherry off a sundae first?”

“Yeah.”

“Think of that like the cherry.”

“Oh.” She considered this. The butterflies of anxiety didn't stir. _Gone or just worn out?_ she wondered. Flynn misinterpreted her quiet response as the need for reassurance.

“We can still go slow.”

Letting go of Flynn's shirt, Yuri lifted her hand, index finger and thumb held just barely apart. “Maybe just a little less slow?”

She smiled as Flynn pulled her a bit closer and kissed the top of her head.


End file.
